


You are what you eat

by Caty_314



Category: Harry Potter - Fandom
Genre: Chocolate and horcruxes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-06
Updated: 2018-05-06
Packaged: 2019-05-03 01:01:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14557443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caty_314/pseuds/Caty_314
Summary: Tom makes his first horcrux, but it’s not meant to roll...





	You are what you eat

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Anna_Hopkins](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anna_Hopkins/gifts).



Tom pushed all his school work and other offending items to one side of his desk, then he dropped his diary into that cleared space with a scowl.

The Chamber of Secrets was now out of reach to him. He’d recognised this fact the moment that whiny Ravenclaw chit peered out of her toilet cubicle and died. Anywhere else and he might have celebrated her death. Now, it simply vexed him. He wouldn’t, however, let that death go to waste.

He’d been studying immortality while hidden in the dark depths below the castle, and he’d already made a plan to achieve it. In only a matter of weeks he would return to the muggle world, and there he would choose his sacrifice, his offering for the gift of eternal life. He didn’t know who to choose yet - any of the other hateful orphans would do, or even the matron or one of the other workers, but Tom had tracked down whispers of a family, other descendants of Salazar Slytherin, other speakers of the serpent tongue. He intended to meet with them, to determine whether they were his absent family, and to demand answers to his abandonment if they were. His family should have been there for him all his life. Now, he would take theirs to prolong his own.

But now, he had been cut off from his hidden sanctuary where he had intended to perform the ritual, all because of a cowardly mudblood who was beyond useless, who never should have been granted a place within the school.

Tom growled to himself as he pulled out a piece of chalk. He brushed to one side a chocolate egg that had rolled back to the centre of his desk with his diary and began carefully drawing around the leather bound book. He carefully drew two circles around his diary, with the necessary runes written concisely between them, all facing the middle of the circle except for the bottom one which faced him, then he placed his hands at two other points of the circle so his body and hands marked the points of a perfect triangle around the centre. 

He closed his eyes and released a breath, expelling his frustrations and any other thought and feeling that might distract him from his task. With a low murmur, he began reciting and repeating the incantation he had spent weeks memorising and, to his pride and pleasure, he did not make a single mistake.

His magic flared within him and roared up around him, then turned inward and attacked him. He was burning from the inside, being sliced by a thousand knives, torn asunder. Just as he could take no more of the agony, something snapped, or ripped, or broke. Ice flooded him, but it soothed the burning heat, numbed the pain of being sliced open, but it did not bring with it a sense of healing, only a strange emptiness, a void, deep within him.

This was exactly the sensation the tome he’d found had described, so he opened his eyes to gaze down victoriously upon his new creation, his horcrux, his immortal-

...and he froze in horror.

That chocolate egg had rolled back into his ritual circle, and was gently pressed against one edge of his diary. 

He reached out with shaky fingers -  _ No! It worked! It must have! _ \- and gently touched the dark leather of his diary, the book where he kept his innermost secrets.

_ Nothing... _

He felt no pulse of heat, no echo of the piece of soul, of self, that he’d burned and torn away. He felt no buzz of magic sizzling up towards him through his fingertips. He felt no connection, no longing, nothing…

_ No. NO. NO!! _

_ It couldn’t be! He didn’t want it! Not this! His horcrux had to be perfect, durable, eternal, not something that would melt on a hot day, not  _ **_this!!_ **

He lifted his fingers and repositioned them. He didn’t want to check, to touch, to get confirmation.  _ He didn’t want it… _

He gently touched the foil wrapper of the chocolate egg. Warmth. A tingle of power. A feeling of wholeness, of rightness, of completion.

His horcrux was an chocolate Easter Egg. 


End file.
